*James Connolly-Commandant- Irish Citizens Army- A Critical Appreciation Of Easter, 1916

Click on title to link to "Workers Hammer" (International Communist League/Great Britain newspaper) critical appreciation of James Connolly, a hero of the Irish rebellion of Easter , 1916.

"James Connolly"

The man was all shot through that came to day into the Barrack Square

And a soldier I, I am not proud to say that we killed him there

They brought him from the prison hospital and to see him in that chair

I swear his smile would, would far more quickly call a man to prayer

Maybe, maybe I don't understand this thing that makes these rebels die

Yet all men love freedom and the spring clear in the sky

I wouldn't do this deed again for all that I hold by

As I gazed down my rifle at his breast but then, then a soldier I.

They say he was different, kindly too apart from all the rest.

A lover of the poor-his wounds ill dressed.

He faced us like a man who knew a greater pain

Than blows or bullets ere the world began: died he in vain

Ready, Present, and him just smiling, Christ I felt my rifle shake

His wounds all open and around his chair a pool of blood

And I swear his lips said, "fire" before my rifle shot that cursed lead

And I, I was picked to kill a man like that, James Connolly



A great crowd had gathered outside of Kilmainham

Their heads all uncovered, they knelt to the ground.

For inside that grim prison

Lay a great Irish soldier

His life for his country about to lay down.

He went to his death like a true son of Ireland

The firing party he bravely did face

Then the order rang out: Present arms and fire

James Connolly fell into a ready-made grave

The black flag was hoisted, the cruel deed was over

Gone was the man who loved Ireland so well

There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning

When they murdered James Connolly-. the Irish rebel



"James Connolly"

Marchin' down O'Connell Street with the Starry Plough on high
There goes the Citizen Army with their fists raised in the sky
Leading them is a mighty man with a mad rage in his eye
"My name is James Connolly - I didn't come here to die

But to fight for the rights of the working man
And the small farmer too
Protect the proletariat from the bosses and their screws
So hold on to your rifles, boys, and don't give up your dream
Of a Republic for the workin' class, economic liberty"

Then Jem yelled out "Oh Citizens, this system is a curse
An English boss is a monster, an Irish one even worse
They'll never lock us out again and here's the reason why
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die....."

And now we're in the GPO with the bullets whizzin' by
With Pearse and Sean McDermott biddin' each other goodbye
Up steps our citizen leader and roars out to the sky
"My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...

Oh Lily, I don't want to die, we've got so much to live for
And I know we're all goin' out to get slaughtered, but I just can't take any more
Just the sight of one more child screamin' from hunger in a Dublin slum
Or his mother slavin' 14 hours a day for the scum
Who exploit her and take her youth and throw it on a factory floor
Oh Lily, I just can't take any more

They've locked us out, they've banned our unions, they even treat their animals better than us
No! It's far better to die like a man on your feet than to live forever like some slave on your knees, Lilly

But don't let them wrap any green flag around me
And for God's sake, don't let them bury me in some field full of harps and shamrocks
And whatever you do, don't let them make a martyr out of me
No! Rather raise the Starry Plough on high, sing a song of freedom
Here's to you, Lily, the rights of man and international revolution"

We fought them to a standstill while the flames lit up the sky
'Til a bullet pierced our leader and we gave up the fight
They shot him in Kilmainham jail but they'll never stop his cry
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...."

*James Connolly-Commandant- Irish Citizens Army- A Critical Appreciation Of Easter, 1916

James Connolly-Commandant- Irish Citizens Army- A Critical Appreciation Of Easter, 1916

http://www.icl-fi.org/english/wh/195/connolly.html


Click on title to link to "Workers Hammer" (International Communist League/Great Britain newspaper) critical appreciation of James Connolly, a hero of the Irish rebellion of Easter , 1916.

"James Connolly"

The man was all shot through that came to day into the Barrack Square

And a soldier I, I am not proud to say that we killed him there

They brought him from the prison hospital and to see him in that chair

I swear his smile would, would far more quickly call a man to prayer

Maybe, maybe I don't understand this thing that makes these rebels die

Yet all men love freedom and the spring clear in the sky

I wouldn't do this deed again for all that I hold by

As I gazed down my rifle at his breast but then, then a soldier I.

They say he was different, kindly too apart from all the rest.

A lover of the poor-his wounds ill dressed.

He faced us like a man who knew a greater pain

Than blows or bullets ere the world began: died he in vain

Ready, Present, and him just smiling, Christ I felt my rifle shake

His wounds all open and around his chair a pool of blood

And I swear his lips said, "fire" before my rifle shot that cursed lead

And I, I was picked to kill a man like that, James Connolly



A great crowd had gathered outside of Kilmainham

Their heads all uncovered, they knelt to the ground.

For inside that grim prison

Lay a great Irish soldier

His life for his country about to lay down.

He went to his death like a true son of Ireland

The firing party he bravely did face

Then the order rang out: Present arms and fire

James Connolly fell into a ready-made grave

The black flag was hoisted, the cruel deed was over

Gone was the man who loved Ireland so well

There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning

When they murdered James Connolly-. the Irish rebel



"James Connolly"

Marchin' down O'Connell Street with the Starry Plough on high
There goes the Citizen Army with their fists raised in the sky
Leading them is a mighty man with a mad rage in his eye
"My name is James Connolly - I didn't come here to die

But to fight for the rights of the working man
And the small farmer too
Protect the proletariat from the bosses and their screws
So hold on to your rifles, boys, and don't give up your dream
Of a Republic for the workin' class, economic liberty"

Then Jem yelled out "Oh Citizens, this system is a curse
An English boss is a monster, an Irish one even worse
They'll never lock us out again and here's the reason why
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die....."

And now we're in the GPO with the bullets whizzin' by
With Pearse and Sean McDermott biddin' each other goodbye
Up steps our citizen leader and roars out to the sky
"My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...

Oh Lily, I don't want to die, we've got so much to live for
And I know we're all goin' out to get slaughtered, but I just can't take any more
Just the sight of one more child screamin' from hunger in a Dublin slum
Or his mother slavin' 14 hours a day for the scum
Who exploit her and take her youth and throw it on a factory floor
Oh Lily, I just can't take any more

They've locked us out, they've banned our unions, they even treat their animals better than us
No! It's far better to die like a man on your feet than to live forever like some slave on your knees, Lilly

But don't let them wrap any green flag around me
And for God's sake, don't let them bury me in some field full of harps and shamrocks
And whatever you do, don't let them make a martyr out of me
No! Rather raise the Starry Plough on high, sing a song of freedom
Here's to you, Lily, the rights of man and international revolution"

We fought them to a standstill while the flames lit up the sky
'Til a bullet pierced our leader and we gave up the fight
They shot him in Kilmainham jail but they'll never stop his cry
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...."

*James Connolly-Commandant- Irish Citizens Army- A Critical Appreciation Of Easter, 1916

Click on title to link to "Workers Hammer" (International Communist League/Great Britain newspaper) critical appreciation of James Connolly, a hero of the Irish rebellion of Easter , 1916.

"James Connolly"

The man was all shot through that came to day into the Barrack Square

And a soldier I, I am not proud to say that we killed him there

They brought him from the prison hospital and to see him in that chair

I swear his smile would, would far more quickly call a man to prayer

Maybe, maybe I don't understand this thing that makes these rebels die

Yet all men love freedom and the spring clear in the sky

I wouldn't do this deed again for all that I hold by

As I gazed down my rifle at his breast but then, then a soldier I.

They say he was different, kindly too apart from all the rest.

A lover of the poor-his wounds ill dressed.

He faced us like a man who knew a greater pain

Than blows or bullets ere the world began: died he in vain

Ready, Present, and him just smiling, Christ I felt my rifle shake

His wounds all open and around his chair a pool of blood

And I swear his lips said, "fire" before my rifle shot that cursed lead

And I, I was picked to kill a man like that, James Connolly



A great crowd had gathered outside of Kilmainham

Their heads all uncovered, they knelt to the ground.

For inside that grim prison

Lay a great Irish soldier

His life for his country about to lay down.

He went to his death like a true son of Ireland

The firing party he bravely did face

Then the order rang out: Present arms and fire

James Connolly fell into a ready-made grave

The black flag was hoisted, the cruel deed was over

Gone was the man who loved Ireland so well

There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning

When they murdered James Connolly-. the Irish rebel



"James Connolly"

Marchin' down O'Connell Street with the Starry Plough on high
There goes the Citizen Army with their fists raised in the sky
Leading them is a mighty man with a mad rage in his eye
"My name is James Connolly - I didn't come here to die

But to fight for the rights of the working man
And the small farmer too
Protect the proletariat from the bosses and their screws
So hold on to your rifles, boys, and don't give up your dream
Of a Republic for the workin' class, economic liberty"

Then Jem yelled out "Oh Citizens, this system is a curse
An English boss is a monster, an Irish one even worse
They'll never lock us out again and here's the reason why
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die....."

And now we're in the GPO with the bullets whizzin' by
With Pearse and Sean McDermott biddin' each other goodbye
Up steps our citizen leader and roars out to the sky
"My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...

Oh Lily, I don't want to die, we've got so much to live for
And I know we're all goin' out to get slaughtered, but I just can't take any more
Just the sight of one more child screamin' from hunger in a Dublin slum
Or his mother slavin' 14 hours a day for the scum
Who exploit her and take her youth and throw it on a factory floor
Oh Lily, I just can't take any more

They've locked us out, they've banned our unions, they even treat their animals better than us
No! It's far better to die like a man on your feet than to live forever like some slave on your knees, Lilly

But don't let them wrap any green flag around me
And for God's sake, don't let them bury me in some field full of harps and shamrocks
And whatever you do, don't let them make a martyr out of me
No! Rather raise the Starry Plough on high, sing a song of freedom
Here's to you, Lily, the rights of man and international revolution"

We fought them to a standstill while the flames lit up the sky
'Til a bullet pierced our leader and we gave up the fight
They shot him in Kilmainham jail but they'll never stop his cry
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...."

*James Connolly-Commandant- Irish Citizens Army- A Critical Appreciation Of Easter, 1916

*James Connolly-Commandant- Irish Citizens Army- A Crtical Appreciation Of Easter, 1916

Click on title to link to "Workers Hammer" (International Communist League/Great Britain newspaper) critical appreciation of James Connolly, a hero of the Irish rebellion of Easter , 1916.

"James Connolly"

The man was all shot through that came to day into the Barrack Square

And a soldier I, I am not proud to say that we killed him there

They brought him from the prison hospital and to see him in that chair

I swear his smile would, would far more quickly call a man to prayer

Maybe, maybe I don't understand this thing that makes these rebels die

Yet all men love freedom and the spring clear in the sky

I wouldn't do this deed again for all that I hold by

As I gazed down my rifle at his breast but then, then a soldier I.

They say he was different, kindly too apart from all the rest.

A lover of the poor-his wounds ill dressed.

He faced us like a man who knew a greater pain

Than blows or bullets ere the world began: died he in vain

Ready, Present, and him just smiling, Christ I felt my rifle shake

His wounds all open and around his chair a pool of blood

And I swear his lips said, "fire" before my rifle shot that cursed lead

And I, I was picked to kill a man like that, James Connolly



A great crowd had gathered outside of Kilmainham

Their heads all uncovered, they knelt to the ground.

For inside that grim prison

Lay a great Irish soldier

His life for his country about to lay down.

He went to his death like a true son of Ireland

The firing party he bravely did face

Then the order rang out: Present arms and fire

James Connolly fell into a ready-made grave

The black flag was hoisted, the cruel deed was over

Gone was the man who loved Ireland so well

There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning

When they murdered James Connolly-. the Irish rebel



"James Connolly"

Marchin' down O'Connell Street with the Starry Plough on high
There goes the Citizen Army with their fists raised in the sky
Leading them is a mighty man with a mad rage in his eye
"My name is James Connolly - I didn't come here to die

But to fight for the rights of the working man
And the small farmer too
Protect the proletariat from the bosses and their screws
So hold on to your rifles, boys, and don't give up your dream
Of a Republic for the workin' class, economic liberty"

Then Jem yelled out "Oh Citizens, this system is a curse
An English boss is a monster, an Irish one even worse
They'll never lock us out again and here's the reason why
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die....."

And now we're in the GPO with the bullets whizzin' by
With Pearse and Sean McDermott biddin' each other goodbye
Up steps our citizen leader and roars out to the sky
"My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...

Oh Lily, I don't want to die, we've got so much to live for
And I know we're all goin' out to get slaughtered, but I just can't take any more
Just the sight of one more child screamin' from hunger in a Dublin slum
Or his mother slavin' 14 hours a day for the scum
Who exploit her and take her youth and throw it on a factory floor
Oh Lily, I just can't take any more

They've locked us out, they've banned our unions, they even treat their animals better than us
No! It's far better to die like a man on your feet than to live forever like some slave on your knees, Lilly

But don't let them wrap any green flag around me
And for God's sake, don't let them bury me in some field full of harps and shamrocks
And whatever you do, don't let them make a martyr out of me
No! Rather raise the Starry Plough on high, sing a song of freedom
Here's to you, Lily, the rights of man and international revolution"

We fought them to a standstill while the flames lit up the sky
'Til a bullet pierced our leader and we gave up the fight
They shot him in Kilmainham jail but they'll never stop his cry
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...."

*Those Who Fought For Our Communist Future Are Kindred Spirits- Honor Easter I916 Irish Citizens Army Commandant James Connolly

Click on the title to link to a "Wikipedia" entry for Easter 1916 leader, James Connolly

This is a repost of a January 2009 entry honoring Irish Citizens Army Commandant James Connolly as a labor militant and here as a fighter for Irish independence as well on the anniversary of the Easter Uprising of 1916.

Every January, as readers of this blog are now, hopefully, familiar with the international communist movement honors the 3 Ls-Lenin, Luxemburg and Leibknecht, fallen leaders of the early 20th century communist movement who died in this month (and whose untimely deaths left a huge, irreplaceable gap in the international leadership of that time). January is thus a time for us to reflect on the roots of our movement and those who brought us along this far. In order to give a fuller measure of honor to our fallen forbears this January, and in future Januarys, this space will honor others who have contributed in some way to the struggle for our communist future. That future classless society, however, will be the true memorial to their sacrifices.

Note on inclusion: As in other series on this site (“Labor’s Untold Story”, “Leaders Of The Bolshevik Revolution”, etc.) this year’s honorees do not exhaust the list of every possible communist worthy of the name. Nor, in fact, is the list limited to Bolshevik-style communists. There will be names included from other traditions (like anarchism, social democracy, the Diggers, Levellers, Jacobins, etc.) whose efforts contributed to the international struggle. Also, as was true of previous series this year’s efforts are no more than an introduction to these heroes of the class struggle. Future years will see more detailed information on each entry, particularly about many of the lesser known figures. Better yet, the reader can pick up the ball and run with it if he or she has more knowledge about the particular exploits of some communist militant, or to include a missing one.

Markin comment:

James Connolly's name is a familiar in this space and we honor his memory every year on the anniversary of the Easter, 1916 Irish uprising against in the British in the middle of their World War I slaughter. Our day will come.

Easter 1916- A Novelistic Treatment- William Martin’s “The Rising Of The Moon”

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for novelist William Martin, author of The Rising of The Moon.

Book Review

The Rising Of The Moon, William Martin, Crown Publishers, New York, 1987

The last time that the work of novelist William Martin appeared in this space was when I reviewed his novel, Harvard Yard several months ago. The idea behind reviewing that novel was simply to use Martin’s novelistic treatment of the history of Harvard University (his alma mater)that was, moreover, filled with interesting and informative historical facts about that august bourgeois training ground and use it to make some political points about the nature of American society, American class society mainly. I should also note that I came to like the novel as its plot unfolded so that was a bonus. Here, in reviewing The Rising Of The Moon, I have a slightly different reason tied in with my Irish heritage on the anniversary of the Easter uprising of 1916.

Here Mr. Martin roped me in by presenting another Boston local novel (he has also written other Boston-centered novels, Back Bay and Cape Cod as well). More importantly he has tied in the familiar Boston scene with a topic very close to my roots, my family roots, the struggle for Irish freedom from English tyranny. And has used the events of the national liberation struggle named forever and framed forever by William Butler Yeats’ poem, Easter 1916.

Of course a primary consideration of any national liberation struggle, old style or new, is weapons-guns, ammo, etc. in order to fight the oppressor. And that thread, that desperate need for weapons against a heavily armed opponent, the British Occupation Army, is what drives the plot. But let's face it a simple exposition of the military needs of insurgents, Irish or otherwise, would make for an interesting history book but would no find favor in modern novelistic conventions.

However, what if you linked the Irish struggle in 1916 with the Irish diaspora in Boston. And what if you linked up Irish freedom fighters in Ireland with co-opted Irish freedom fighters in Southie (oops, South Boston) then the homeland to a great portion of the American Irish diaspora. And what if you surrounded the problems associated with getting weapons with kinship questions, some unfinished family business between Irish cousins, and, and, a little off-hand sex and romance in the person of a fetching Jewish girl (who also happens to be interested in national liberation struggles elsewhere- in Palestine). Well then you have William Martin’s interesting little novel that helps fill in the gaps, painlessly, about the Irish struggles and about what Boston, Irish Boston, looked like about one hundred years ago. As I said about Harvard Yard I liked the novel better as its plot unfolded so that was a bonus here as well. Kudos.

Easter, 1916 -William Butler Yeats
I
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.



II

That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our winged horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terribly beauty is born.



III

Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road,
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashed within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone's in the midst of all.



IV

Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

From On Point Radio- The Dropkick Murphys- On Saint Patrick's Day, Natch

From On Point Radio- The Dropkick Murphys- On Saint Patrick's Day, Natch


http://onpoint.wbur.org/2011/03/17/the-dropkick-murphys?autostart=true

Click on the headline to link to an On Point broadcast featuring The Dropkick Murphys- St.Pat's Day, Okay.

*********
DROPKICK MURPHYS LYRICS
"Peg O' My Heart"
Featuring Bruce Springsteen

Peg of my heart I love you
Don't let us part I love you
I always knew it would be you
Peg of my heart
Since I heard your lilting laughter
It's your Irish heart I'm after
Peg of my heart

Peg of my heart, oh your glances
Make my heart sing how's chances
Come be my own
Come make your home in my heart

Peg of my heart I love you
We'll never never part I love you
I always knew it would be you
Peg of my heart
Since I heard your lilting laughter
It's your Irish heart I'm after
It's your Irish heart I'm after
Peg of my heart

Peg of my heart I love you
Don't let us part I love you
I always knew it would be you
Peg of my heart
Since I heard your lilting laughter
It's your Irish heart I'm after
It's your Irish heart I'm after
Peg of my heart
Since I heard your lilting laughter
It's your Irish heart I'm after
It's your Irish heart I'm after
Peg of my heart

Peg of my heart
Peg of my heart
Peg of my heart
Peg of my heart
*****
DROPKICK MURPHYS LYRICS
"Deeds Not Words"

Where you gonna run to? Where you gonna hide?
Bodies on the floor no one's getting out alive
Death is in the air there's trouble all around
Now you got it coming This time you're going down
Deeds not words you should've told the truth
You're a liar and traitor and now we got the proof

Liar and a traitor
And now we got the proof

Hindsight's twenty twenty it's so easy looking back
You made all the wrong choices Now you gotta live with that
But living's not the problem I got better plans for you
Like a bug I'm gonna crush you and then scrape you off my shoe
You've been thinkin' that you're safe but you're too blind to see
You turned your best friends into mortal enemies

Where you gonna run to?
Where you gonna hide?
You're running for the door now
No one's getting out alive
Where you gonna run to?
Where you gonna hide?
You're running for the door now
No one's getting out alive

Better watch your back you'll never get away
No talkin' your way out there'll be nothing left to say
I knew you as a child I hate you as a man
You're a two faced rat that nobody can stand
Deeds not words you should've told the truth
You're a liar and traitor and now we got the proof

Liar and a traitor
And now we got the proof

Deeds not words you should've told the truth
You're a liar and traitor and now we got the proof

Where you gonna run to?
Where you gonna hide?
You're running for the door now
No one's getting out alive
Where you gonna run to?
Where you gonna hide?
You're running for the door now
No one's getting out alive
Where you gonna run to?
Where you gonna hide?
You're running for the door now
No one's getting out alive

[ www.plyrics.com ] All lyrics are property and copyright of their actual owners and provided for educational purposes and personal use only

***Sagas Of The Irish-American Diaspora- Albany-Style- William Kennedy's "Very Old Bones"

***Sagas Of The Irish-American  Diaspora- Albany-Style- William Kennedy's "Very Old Bones"

Book Review

Very Old Bones, William Kennedy, Viking Press, New York, 1992

Recently, in reviewing an early William Kennedy Albany-cycle novel, “Ironweed” I mentioned that he was my kind of writer. I will let what I stated there stand on that score here. Here is what I said:

“William Kennedy is, at least in his Albany stories, my kind of writer. He writes about the trials and tribulations of the Irish diaspora as it penetrated the rough and tumble of American urban WASP-run society, for good or evil. I know these people, my people, their follies and foibles like the back of my hand. Check. Kennedy writes, as here with the main characters Fran Phelan and Helen Archer two down at the heels sorts, about that pervasive hold that Catholicism has even on its most debased sons and daughters, saint and sinner alike. I know those characteristics all too well. Check. He writes about that place in class society where the working class meets the lumpen-proletariat-the thieves, grifters, drifters and con men- the human dust. I know that place well, much better than I would ever let on. Check. He writes about the sorrows and dangers of the effects alcohol on working class families. I know that place too. Check. And so on. Oh, by the way, did I mention that he also, at some point, was an editor of some sort associated with the late Hunter S. Thompson down in Puerto Rico. I know that mad man’s work well. He remains something of a muse for me. Check.”

Although “Very Old Bones” is structurally part of Kennedy’s Albany-cycle of novels it is far more ambitious than the other novels in the cycle that I have read. Those previous efforts, led by the premier example, “Ironweed” set themselves the task of telling stories about particular characters in the Phelan clan and their neighbors in particular periods of the cycle that runs from approximately the 1880s to, as in the present novel, the late 1950s. Here we get a vast view of the clan, its trials and tribulations and its cursedness as a result of the insularity of the Irish diaspora, Albany style.

I am, frankly, ambitious about the success of this endeavor. While it is very good to have a summing up of the history of the Phelan clan, it struggle for "lace curtain" respectablity, and its remarkable stretch of characters from the cursed Malachi generation through to Fran (of “Ironweed”), and here his brother Peter as well, and on to Orton, the narrator’s generation (and Billy Phelan’s) there is almost too much of this and it gets in the way of the plot line here, basically the current survivors trying to cope with the traumas brought on by those previous generations. Conversely, I ran through the book at breakneck speed. Why? Change the names and a few of the incidentals, and a few f the specific pathologies, and this could have been the story of my Irish-derived family in that other diaspora enclave, Boston. Hence the ambiguity. Moreover, there is just a little too much of that “magical realism” in the plot that was all the rage in the 1990s in telling the sub-stories here and then expecting us the sober, no nonsense reader to suspend our disbelieve. Is this effort as good as "Ironweed"? No, that is the standard by which to judge a Kennedy work and still the number one contender from this reviewer's vantage point.

*And One Last Time-Making Joyful Irish Music-The Dubliners

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The Dubliners Performing "Whiskey In The Jar".

CD Review

Original Dubliners, The Dubliners, two disc set, EMI, 1993

I have mentioned in this space more times than one is reasonably allowed that in my youth in the early 1960’s I listened to a local folk music radio program on Sunday nights. That program played, along with highlighting the then current up and coming folk revivalists like Bob Dylan and Dave Van Ronk, much American traditional music including things like the “Child Ballads”. In short, music derived from parts of the “British” homeland.

What I have not previously mentioned is that directly after that program I used to listen on that same radio station to the “Irish National Hour”, a show devoted to all the old more traditional and unknown Irish ballads and songs. And, by the way, attempted to instill a respect for Irish culture, Irish heritage and the Irish struggle against the “bloody” British. (That struggle continues in one form or another today but that is a subject for another time.) Of course, today when every other ‘progressive’ radio station (or other technological format) has its obligatory “Keltic Twilight” programs we are inundated with music from the old country this is no big deal but then it was another question.

All of this is by way of reviewing the music of the Irish Diaspora. Our Irish forebears had the ‘distinct’ opportunity of following the British flag wherever it went, under one set of terms or another. And in those days the sun never set on the British Empire. So there are plenty of far flung traditions to talk about. But, first comes the old country and hence this review of The Dubliner’s and their 2 disc compilation culled from their first four EMI albums. Chocky Ar La (roughly translated- “Our Day Will Come”)

I have mentioned elsewhere that every devotee of the modern Irish folk tradition owes a debt of gratitude for the work of the likes of Tommy Makem and The Clancy Brothers and The Dubliners for keeping the tradition alive and for making it popular with the young on both sides of the Atlantic. The obvious musical skills, talent and commitment to craftsmanship of this group during its history need no comment by me. Nor does their commitment to keeping alive the Irish folk tradition need further comment. Here the boyos produce a veritable what’s what of Irish music from songs of rebellion and modern political updates on those themes, novelty songs, and songs based on the old traditions of whiskey women, war and the wounds of occupation on the Irish psyche. Let’s sort it out a little.

As for the whiskey we have “Seven Drunken Nights”; Nancy Whiskey”; “The Parting Glass; and, “Whiskey in the Jar”. For the women we have “Peggy Gordon”; “Molly Bawn”; and, “Black Velvet Band”. For the wounds of occupation well, how about “A Nation Once Again”; “Poor Paddy On The Railway”; and, “Come And Join The British Army”. Round all of this out with songs like “The Croppy Boy” and “The Rising Of The Moon” and you have a pretty good look at the run of the old Irish traditions. In short, in one place you have a compilation that covers a wide swath of Irish musical history. Nicely done.

Sinn Fein- Ourselves, Alone

Book Review

Mick- The Real Michael Collins, Peter Hart, Viking, New York, 2006

This is the 100th Anniversary of the Easter Uprising of 1916- Chocky Ar La

I have spent a fair amount of my adult political life fighting for a just solution to the national question in Ireland and for justice for the Catholic minority in the North (and any Protestant workers who will listen) thus I am no stranger to the name Michael Collins. However, as Peter Hart has gone to pains to describe in his well-thought out biography Mick is a very contradictory man both in his expression of his personal aspirations for Ireland (and himself) and the political choices that he made in the important 1920-22 period just before his death. The consequences of his actions (and others, notably Eamon de Valera) are still being played out today as the struggle for that just solution to the national question continues.

For those who are not familiar with Collins’s biography (affectionately known as the Big Fellow) or have not seen the fairly recent commercial film about his life (starring Liam Neelson) Collins represented that next generation of leaders who survived the Easter Uprising of 1916- the event that is the real start of the modern national liberation struggle in Ireland. Mr. Hart spends some useful time detailing Mick’s schooling, upbringing and the development of his administrative skills that would prove very helpful in his rise to the top of the Irish revolutionary movement. The real meat of the book, however, describes the rocky road to the top in the struggle to break Ireland from English domination.

This period from about 1917 to his death in 1922 is both where his huge reputation was made but also where the limits of his capacity to lead Ireland to real independence from the British are displayed. That failure, exemplified by the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921, has caused no little ink to be spilled on both sides of the divide that ultimately led to the civil war that tore the republican camp apart. This is hardly the place to have a full discussion of that question but I confess that I am still baffled by Mick’s decision to sign the treaty. To a great extent he, more so than de Valera, was the very Irish face of the military struggle lead by the then current version the Irish Republican Army.

Despite Collins' well-informed and industrious intelligence apparatus formed in his role as ‘commander-in-chief’ of the republican military forces I believe that he overrated the ability of the British to stay in Ireland in the immediate post World War I period. That miscalculation, among other issues, led to the signing of the treaty widely seen as a betrayal of the republican struggle and the abandonment of the peoples in the North. While Collin’s historically has had the best of it on this question though the efforts of his many biographers this thorny issue is still with us. Too much blood has been spilled to ignore it. Read on.

*The Music Of The Celtic Fringe- The Chieftains- An Encore

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Sinead O'Connor And The Chieftains Performing "The Foggy Dew".

CD Review

Fire In The Kitchen, The Chieftains and various artists, BMC, 1999

If you want to hear good old-fashioned Celtic music then The Chieftains is one place where you will have to visit to get a taste of that music done to more modern sensibilities. The lads have gone to Nova Scotia here to grab another aspect of the Celtic diaspora. Moreover, as here and on a number of their albums they have gotten virtual who’s who of top-notch musicians from many genres to play along with them. That is always a sure sign of respect. What else can you ask for? Well here how about Laura Smith on “My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean” or The Ennis Sisters doing “Red Is The Rose” (also known by many other names but the result remains the same, a deep longing for a lover). If you want to go to tradition how about The Rankins and “An Innis Aigh or “A Mhairi Bhoidheach” done by Mary Jane Lamond. My favorite on this one is “Come By The Hills” done by Rita MacNeil. Nice.

Long Black Veil lyrics

Ten years ago on a cold dark night
Someone was killed 'neath the town hall light
Just a few at the scene, and they all did agree
That the man who ran looked a lot like me

The judge said "Son, what's your alibi?
If you were somewheres else, then you won't have to die"
But I spoke not a word, tho' it meant my life
For I'd been in the arms of my best friend's wife

Chorus:
She walks these hills in a long black veil
Visits my grave when the night winds wail
Nobody knows, nobody sees
Nobody knows, but me

The scaffold is high, eternity near
She stands in the crowd, she sheds not a tear
But sometimes at night when the cold winds moan
In a long black veil, she cries o'er my bones

Chorus

The Chieftains

Mo Ghile Mear lyrics

Chorus:

'Se/ mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear
'Se/ mo Chaesar Gile Mear
Suan na/ se/an ni/ bhfuaireas fe/in
O/ chuaigh i gce/in mo Ghile Mear

Grief and pain are all I know
My heart is sore
My tears a'flow
We saw him go ....
No word we know of him...
Chorus

A proud and gallant cavalier
A high man's scion of gentle mien
A fiery blade engaged to reap
He'd break the bravest in the field
Chorus

Come sing his praise as sweet harps play
And proudly toast his noble frame
With spirit and with mind aflame
So wish him strength and length of day
Chorus


"The Foggy Dew"

As down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I.
There armed lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its loud tattoo,
But the Angelus Bells o'er the Liffey swells
Rang out in the foggy dew.

Right proudly high in Dublin town
Hung they out a flag of war.
T'was better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Sulva or Sud el Bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through
While Brittania's huns with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew.

The bravest fell and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the springing of the year.
While the world did gaze with deep amaze
At those fearless men but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew.

And back through the glen I rode again
And my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valient men
Whom I never shall see more.
But to and fro in my dreams I go
And I kneel and pray for you,
For slavery fled the glorious dead
When you fell in the foggy dew.

"The Rocky Road To Dublin"

In the merry month of may, from me home I started left the girls of
Tuam,
sad and broken hearted, salute me father dear,
and kissed me darlin' mother, drank a pint of beer,
me tears and grief to smother, off to reap the corn,
leave where I was born, I cut a stoat black thorn to banish ghosts and
goblins,
in a pair of brand new of brogues, I rattled over the bogs, frightened
all the dogs,
on the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5
hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,
and all the way to Dublin, whacks fer al de da!
In Dublin next arrived, and thought it such a pity to be so soon
deprived,
a view of that fair city, then I took a stroll,
all amongst the quality, me bundle it was stole,
in that neat locality, something crossed me mind, when I looked behind,
no bundle I could find, upon me stick a wobblin. Enquiring after the
rogue,
said me Connaught brogue, was not much in vogue,
on the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5
hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,
and all the way to Dublin, whacks fer al de da!
The boys of Liverpool, when we safely landed, called meself a fool,
I could no longer stand it, me blood began to boil,
me temper I was losing, for old Erin's isle,
they began abusing, horah say I, me Shelelagh I let fly,
some Galway boys were by, they saw I was a hobblin',
with a loud hurray, they joined in the afray,
we quickly cleared the way,
for the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5
hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,
nd all the way to Dublin, whacks fer al de da!

*Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By- The Wolf Tones- "Kevin Barry"

Click on the title to link a "YouTube" film clip of the Wolf Tones performing "Kevin Barry".

In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.


Kevin Barry

Irish Folk song

In Mountjoy jail one Monday morning
High upon the gallows tree,
Kevin Barry gave his young life
For the cause of liberty.

But a lad of eighteen summers,
Still there's no one can deny,
As he walked to death that morning,
He proudly held his head on high.


2. Just before he faced the hangman,
In his dreary prison cell,
The Black and Tans tortured Barry,
Just because he wouldn't tell.

The names of his brave comrades,
And other things they wished to know.
"Turn informer and we'll free you"
Kevin Barry answered, "no".


3. "Shoot me like a soldier.
Do not hang me like a dog,
For I fought to free old Ireland
On that still September morn.

"All around the little bakery
Where we fought them hand to hand,
Shoot me like a brave soldier,
For I fought for Ireland."


4. "Kevin Barry, do not leave us,
On the scaffold you must die!"
Cried his broken-hearted mother
As she bade her son good-bye.

Kevin turned to her in silence
Saying, "Mother, do not weep,
For it's all for dear old Ireland
And it's all for freedom's sake."


5. Calmly standing to attention
While he bade his last farewell
To his broken hearted mother
Whose grief no one can tell.

For the cause he proudly cherished
This sad parting had to be
Then to death walked softly smiling
That old Ireland might be free.


6. Another martyr for old Ireland;
Another murder for the crown,
Whose brutal laws to crush the Irish,
Could not keep their spirit down.

Lads like Barry are no cowards.
From the foe they will not fly.
Lads like Barry will free Ireland,
For her sake they'll live and die.

*Those Who Fought For Our Communist Future Are Kindred Spirits- An Encore -James Connolly-Irish Citizens Army- A Critical Appreciation Of Easter, 1916

Click on title to link to "Workers Hammer" (International Communist League/Great Britain newspaper) critical appreciation of James Connolly, a hero of the Irish rebellion of Easter , 1916.

"James Connolly"

The man was all shot through that came to day into the Barrack Square

And a soldier I, I am not proud to say that we killed him there

They brought him from the prison hospital and to see him in that chair

I swear his smile would, would far more quickly call a man to prayer

Maybe, maybe I don't understand this thing that makes these rebels die

Yet all men love freedom and the spring clear in the sky

I wouldn't do this deed again for all that I hold by

As I gazed down my rifle at his breast but then, then a soldier I.

They say he was different, kindly too apart from all the rest.

A lover of the poor-his wounds ill dressed.

He faced us like a man who knew a greater pain

Than blows or bullets ere the world began: died he in vain

Ready, Present, and him just smiling, Christ I felt my rifle shake

His wounds all open and around his chair a pool of blood

And I swear his lips said, "fire" before my rifle shot that cursed lead

And I, I was picked to kill a man like that, James Connolly



A great crowd had gathered outside of Kilmainham

Their heads all uncovered, they knelt to the ground.

For inside that grim prison

Lay a great Irish soldier

His life for his country about to lay down.

He went to his death like a true son of Ireland

The firing party he bravely did face

Then the order rang out: Present arms and fire

James Connolly fell into a ready-made grave

The black flag was hoisted, the cruel deed was over

Gone was the man who loved Ireland so well

There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning

When they murdered James Connolly-. the Irish rebel



"James Connolly"

Marchin' down O'Connell Street with the Starry Plough on high
There goes the Citizen Army with their fists raised in the sky
Leading them is a mighty man with a mad rage in his eye
"My name is James Connolly - I didn't come here to die

But to fight for the rights of the working man
And the small farmer too
Protect the proletariat from the bosses and their screws
So hold on to your rifles, boys, and don't give up your dream
Of a Republic for the workin' class, economic liberty"

Then Jem yelled out "Oh Citizens, this system is a curse
An English boss is a monster, an Irish one even worse
They'll never lock us out again and here's the reason why
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die....."

And now we're in the GPO with the bullets whizzin' by
With Pearse and Sean McDermott biddin' each other goodbye
Up steps our citizen leader and roars out to the sky
"My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...

Oh Lily, I don't want to die, we've got so much to live for
And I know we're all goin' out to get slaughtered, but I just can't take any more
Just the sight of one more child screamin' from hunger in a Dublin slum
Or his mother slavin' 14 hours a day for the scum
Who exploit her and take her youth and throw it on a factory floor
Oh Lily, I just can't take any more

They've locked us out, they've banned our unions, they even treat their animals better than us
No! It's far better to die like a man on your feet than to live forever like some slave on your knees, Lilly

But don't let them wrap any green flag around me
And for God's sake, don't let them bury me in some field full of harps and shamrocks
And whatever you do, don't let them make a martyr out of me
No! Rather raise the Starry Plough on high, sing a song of freedom
Here's to you, Lily, the rights of man and international revolution"

We fought them to a standstill while the flames lit up the sky
'Til a bullet pierced our leader and we gave up the fight
They shot him in Kilmainham jail but they'll never stop his cry
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...."

*The Music Of The Keltic Fringe- The Chieftains

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The Chieftains and Sinead O'Connor Performing the Easter 1916 Classic "The Foggy Dew".

CD REVIEW

The Chieftains, The Chieftains and various artists, BMC, 1995

If you want to hear good old-fashioned Celtic music then The Chieftains is one place where you will have to visit to get a taste of that music done to more modern sensibilities. Moreover, as here and on a number of their albums they have gotten virtual who’s who of top-notch musicians from many genres to play along with them. That is always a sure sign of respect. What else can you ask for? Well here how about Mick and the boys doing “Long Black Veil” or Marianne Faithful doing “Love Is Teasin’” (also known by many other names but the result remains the same, a love affair gone bad). If you want to go to tradition how about Sting and “Mo Ghile Mear” or “He Moved Through The Fair” (also known by other names) by Sinead O’Connor. My favorite is Ry Cooder (yes, that Ry Cooder of "Buena Vista Social Club" fame, among other excellent work) doing “Coast Of Malabar”. His grandmother used to sing it to him back in the days. My grandmother did the same. Nice.


Long Black Veil lyrics

Ten years ago on a cold dark night
Someone was killed 'neath the town hall light
Just a few at the scene, and they all did agree
That the man who ran looked a lot like me

The judge said "Son, what's your alibi?
If you were somewheres else, then you won't have to die"
But I spoke not a word, tho' it meant my life
For I'd been in the arms of my best friend's wife

Chorus:
She walks these hills in a long black veil
Visits my grave when the night winds wail
Nobody knows, nobody sees
Nobody knows, but me

The scaffold is high, eternity near
She stands in the crowd, she sheds not a tear
But sometimes at night when the cold winds moan
In a long black veil, she cries o'er my bones

Chorus

The Chieftains

Mo Ghile Mear lyrics

Chorus:

'Se/ mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear
'Se/ mo Chaesar Gile Mear
Suan na/ se/an ni/ bhfuaireas fe/in
O/ chuaigh i gce/in mo Ghile Mear

Grief and pain are all I know
My heart is sore
My tears a'flow
We saw him go ....
No word we know of him...
Chorus

A proud and gallant cavalier
A high man's scion of gentle mien
A fiery blade engaged to reap
He'd break the bravest in the field
Chorus

Come sing his praise as sweet harps play
And proudly toast his noble frame
With spirit and with mind aflame
So wish him strength and length of day
Chorus


"The Foggy Dew"

As down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I.
There armed lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its loud tattoo,
But the Angelus Bells o'er the Liffey swells
Rang out in the foggy dew.

Right proudly high in Dublin town
Hung they out a flag of war.
T'was better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Sulva or Sud el Bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through
While Brittania's huns with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew.

The bravest fell and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the springing of the year.
While the world did gaze with deep amaze
At those fearless men but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew.

And back through the glen I rode again
And my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valient men
Whom I never shall see more.
But to and fro in my dreams I go
And I kneel and pray for you,
For slavery fled the glorious dead
When you fell in the foggy dew.

"The Rocky Road To Dublin"

In the merry month of may, from me home I started left the girls of
Tuam,
sad and broken hearted, salute me father dear,
and kissed me darlin' mother, drank a pint of beer,
me tears and grief to smother, off to reap the corn,
leave where I was born, I cut a stoat black thorn to banish ghosts and
goblins,
in a pair of brand new of brogues, I rattled over the bogs, frightened
all the dogs,
on the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5
hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,
and all the way to Dublin, whacks fer al de da!
In Dublin next arrived, and thought it such a pity to be so soon
deprived,
a view of that fair city, then I took a stroll,
all amongst the quality, me bundle it was stole,
in that neat locality, something crossed me mind, when I looked behind,
no bundle I could find, upon me stick a wobblin. Enquiring after the
rogue,
said me Connaught brogue, was not much in vogue,
on the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5
hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,
and all the way to Dublin, whacks fer al de da!
The boys of Liverpool, when we safely landed, called meself a fool,
I could no longer stand it, me blood began to boil,
me temper I was losing, for old Erin's isle,
they began abusing, horah say I, me Shelelagh I let fly,
some Galway boys were by, they saw I was a hobblin',
with a loud hurray, they joined in the afray,
we quickly cleared the way,
for the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5
hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,
nd all the way to Dublin, whacks fer al de da!

*The Music Of The Irish Diaspora-In Honor Of Easter 1916

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of The Dubliners performing "The Patriot Game".

Commentary/CD REVIEW

I have mentioned in this space more times than one is reasonably allowed that in my youth in the early 1960's I listened to a local folk music radio program on Sunday nights. That program played, along with highlighting the then current up and coming folk revivalists like Bob Dylan and Dave Van Ronk, much American traditional music including things like the "Child Ballads". In short, music derived from parts of the "British" homeland. What I have not previously mentioned is that directly after that program I used to listen on that same radio station to the "Irish National Hour", a show devoted to all the old more traditional and unknown Irish ballads and songs. And, by the way, attempted to instill a respect for Irish culture, Irish heritage and the Irish struggle against the "bloody" British. (That struggle continues in one form or another today but that is a subject for another time.) Of course, today when every `progressive' radio station (or other technological format) has its obligatory "Keltic Twilight" programs we are inundated with music from the old country and this is no big deal but in those days it was another question.

All of this is by way of reviewing the music of the Irish Diaspora. Our Irish forebears had the `distinct' opportunity of following the British flag wherever it went, under one set of terms or another. And remember in those days the sun never set on that British Empire. So there are plenty of far-flung traditions to talk about. But, first comes the old country. Chocky Ar La (roughly translated- "Our Day Will Come")

20 Famous Irish Ballads, various artists, Outlet Recording Company, 1998

The music traditions made popular by the late Tommy Makem and the Clancy Brothers and The Dubliners are two of the first places any modern analysis of Irish music. Neither group kept strictly to the parameters of traditional music but certainly both groups had the primal respect for the traditions that is key to any appreciation of the music. Here we have The Dubliners and some groups and individuals influenced by their work doing twenty of the most famous Irish ballads. From “All For Me Grog” and “Take Me To Castlebar” at the most traditional end to songs in honor of the Irish national liberation struggle such as the one to the Irish Citizen’s Army leader and revolutionary socialist James Connolly and Sinn Fein’s founder Arthur McBride this CD is a great primer for those unfamiliar with Irish music beyond the St. Patty’s Day classics.

Special mention should be made here of the song “Patriot Game” by Dominic Behan (brother of the more famous, at least in America, playwright Brendan Behan and another brother who was a leader of one of the myriad of Trotskyist groups in Britain in the 1960’s). “Patriot Game” served as a cross-over, of sorts, during my youth between the generic folk music that I was interested in learning about and the folk music of my Irish heritage. I first heard this song on a Sunday folk music show that I have mentioned above, not the “Irish National Hour”. The sentiments expressed there concerning the fate of an Irish Republican Army rank and file liberation fighter were among the first that helped explain to me not only the roots but the need for political struggle to resolve “the Irish question” well before the uprisings in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. The period of the song actual represented trough in the fortunes of the IRA after several failed efforts to ignite the struggle in the North in the 1950’s.

Addition mention should also be made concerning the song “James Connolly” about one of the revolutionary Irish leaders of Easter, 1916 executed (despite being severely wounded) by the British for his role. Naturally the name James Connolly is a fitting one in this space and each Easter time has been the subject of commemoration. I need go no further here except to say, even today when I listen to this song I rage against the stupidities of the bloody British rulers who executed him. And you should too.

Patriot Game

words and music by Dominic Behan

Come all ye young rebels, and list while I sing,
For the love of one's country is a terrible thing.
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame,
And it makes us all part of the patriot game.
My name is O'Hanlon, and I've just turned sixteen.
My home is in Monaghan, and where I was weaned
I learned all my life cruel England's to blame,
So now I am part of the patriot game.
This Ireland of ours has too long been half free.
Six counties lie under John Bull's tyranny.
But still De Valera is greatly to blame
For shirking his part in the Patriot game.
They told me how Connolly was shot in his chair,
His wounds from the fighting all bloody and bare.
His fine body twisted, all battered and lame
They soon made me part of the patriot game.
It's nearly two years since I wandered away
With the local battalion of the bold IRA,
For I read of our heroes, and wanted the same
To play out my part in the patriot game.
[extra verse I found]
I don't mind a bit if I shoot down police
They are lackeys for war never guardians of peace
And yet at deserters I'm never let aim
The rebels who sold out the patriot game
And now as I lie here, my body all holes
I think of those traitors who bargained in souls
And I wish that my rifle had given the same
To those Quislings who sold out the patriot game.

Background: Tune: "One Morning In May", or "God on Our Side". This song was written by Dominic Behan, brother of Brendan. It tells the story of Fergal O'Hanlon from Ballybay, Co Monaghan, who tried to abolish the border between the Six Counties and the Republic. He was killed during the Brookborough attack at the age of 17. The song has become world famous. Undoubtedly one of the best ballads ever to come out of the Irish struggles.

During our first year together, we were introduced to a wide variety of music. One of the first tapes someone lent me was a tape of I.R.B. tunes. Well the very first task we had to figure out was what I.R.B. stood for? Irish Republican Brotherhood. The Irish Republican Brotherhood was formed on Saint Patrick's Day in 1858. It was an underground organization designed to remove the English from Ireland.
The song was recorded by numerous artists including Bob Dylan and the Kingston Trio. Our version came from the aforementioned I.R.B. compilation. I think it may have been the Wolfe Tones who sang it, but I'm not sure. In any case, it was the first rebel song we learned, and still one of our most popular.

JAMES CONNOLLY

In this song James Connolly is memorised as leader of the Irish Transport and General Workers Union (ITGWU) and founder of the Irish Citizen Army (ICA).

Another song tells the circumstances in which he was executed for his participation at the Easter Rising.
[top of page]

JAMES CONNOLLY

Where oh where is our James Connolly,
Where oh where can that brave man be,
He has gone to organise the Union,
That working men might yet be free.
Where oh where is the citizen army,
Where oh where can that brave band be,
They have gone to join the great rebellion,
And break the bonds of slavery.
And who will be there to lead the van,
Who will there be to lead the van,
Oh who should there be but our James Connolly,
The hero of each working man.
Who carries high our burning flag,
Who carries high our burning flag,
Oh who but James Connolly all pale and wounded,
Carries high our burning flag.
They carried him up to the jail,
They carried him up to the jail,
And 'twas there that they shot him one bright May morning,
And quickly laid him in his grave.
Who mourns now for our James Connolly,
Who mourns now for that fighting man,
Oh lay me down in yon green garden,
And make my bearers Union men.
We laid him down in yon green garden,
With Union men on every side,
And we swore that we'd make one mighty Union,
And fill that gallant man with pride.
So come all you noble young Irishmen,
Come join with me for liberty,
And we will forge a mighty weapon,
And break the bonds of Slavery.

*Sagas Of The Irish-American Diaspora- Albany-Style- William Kennedy's "Flaming Corsage"e

Click on the title to link to a "Wikipedia" entry for Albany-cycle author William Kennedy.

Book Review

Flaming Corsage, William Kennedy, Viking Press, New York, 1996

Recently, in reviewing an early William Kennedy Albany-cycle novel, “Ironweed” I mentioned that he was my kind of writer. I will let what I stated there stand on that score here. Here is what I said:

“William Kennedy is, at least in his Albany stories, my kind of writer. He writes about the trials and tribulations of the Irish diaspora as it penetrated the rough and tumble of American urban WASP-run society, for good or evil. I know these people, my people, their follies and foibles like the back of my hand. Check. Kennedy writes, as here with the main characters Fran Phelan and Helen Archer two down at the heels sorts, about that pervasive hold that Catholicism has even on its most debased sons and daughters, saint and sinner alike. I know those characteristics all too well. Check. He writes about that place in class society where the working class meets the lumpen-proletariat-the thieves, grifters, drifters and con men- the human dust. I know that place well, much better than I would ever let on. Check. He writes about the sorrows and dangers of the effects alcohol on working class families. I know that place too. Check. And so on. Oh, by the way, did I mention that he also, at some point, was an editor of some sort associated with the late Hunter S. Thompson down in Puerto Rico. I know that mad man’s work well. He remains something of a muse for me. Check.”

That said, this little novel from an earlier time in the Albany cycle than "Ironweed", the period between the well-known and written about “robber baron” age (Edith Wharton, Henry James, etc.) in American and the end of the Victorian period just before World War I is the saga of an upwardly mobile son of a “bogtrotter’ Irishman and a daughter of a member of the central committee of Waspdom, Albany version. That the pair are congenially mated yet-ill-fated may speak to the problems of cross-class transformations, or to the unpredictable predilections of WASP maidens.

In any case as the tone of the novel is set from the first page by reference to the star-crossed lovers theme of Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Mikado” (one of the few times in recorded history that that pair has been the source of a front piece quotation, I am sure). Kennedy, here keeps the dramatic tension up by going back and forth between times from early int he period until late as the tragedy behind the convoluted story unfolds. Katrina, the central female character, gives portent of the new age for women to be heralded at the end of this period by women's suffrage, although her appetites and melancholia prevent her from partaking of that freedom. I might add that Fran Phelan, the main character of “Ironweed” makes a cameo appearance here, and I am sure that as I read more in this cycle other references to the story will reappear. Needless to say, now that Mr. Kennedy has my attention I will be devouring the rest of the Albany cycle , as quickly as I can get my hands on copies of the other works.

*Honor The Memory of James Connolly-Revolutionary Socialist

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The Wolftones Performing The Song In Honor Of "James Connolly". There are also some very good photographs of the destruction of Dublin after the British shelled the downtown area of "their province" to kingdom come.

This is a repost of a commentary from 2006 concerning Jame Connolly's role in the Easter 1916 uprising. The task that he set for himself then remain to be completed.

COMMENTARY

ALL HONOR TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES CONNOLLY, COMMANDANT- IRISH CITIZEN ARMY- EXECUTED BY THE BLOODY BRITISH IMPERIALISTS MAY, 1916. ALL HONOR TO THE MEMORY OF BOBBY SANDS, MP AND THE 10 MARTYRED LONG KESH HUNGER STRIKERS. ALL HONOR TO THE MEMORY OF THE 92th ANNIVERSARY OF THE EASTER UPRISING, 1916. BRITISH TROOPS OUT OF IRELAND TODAY (AND WHILE WE ARE AT IT OUT OF IRAQ).

A word. They tell a story about James Connolly that just before the start of action on Easter Monday, 1916 he told the members of the Irish Citizen’s Army (almost exclusively workers, by the way) that if the uprising was successful to keep their guns handy. More work with them might be necessary against the nationalist allies of the moment organized as the Irish Volunteers. The Volunteers were mainly a petty bourgeois formation that had no intention of fighting for Connolly's vision of a Socialist Republic. True story or not, I think that gives a pretty good example of the strategy and tactics to be used in colonial and third world struggles by the working class. Would that the Chinese Communists in the 1920’s and other colonial and third world liberation fighters since then have paid heed to that strategic concept.

James Connolly, June 5, 1868-May 12, 1916, was of Scottish Irish stock. He was born in Edinburgh of immigrant parents. The explicit English colonial policy of trying to drive the Irish out of Ireland and thus created the Irish diaspora produced many such immigrants from benighted Ireland to England, America, Australia and the far flung parts of the world. Many of these immigrants left Ireland under compulsion of banishment. Deportation and executions were the standard English response in the history of the various “Troubles" from Cromwell’s time on.

Connolly, like many another Irish lad left school for a working life at age 11. The international working class has produced many such self-taught and motivated leaders. Despite the lack of formal education he became one of the preeminent left-wing theorists of his day in the pre- World War I international labor movement. In the class struggle we do not ask for diplomas, although they help, but commitment to the cause of the laboring masses. Again, like many an Irish lad Connolly joined the British Army, at the age of 14. In those days the British Army provided one of the few ways of advancement for an Irishman who had some abilities. As fate would have it Connolly was stationed in Dublin. I believe the English must rue the day they let Brother Connolly near weapons and near Dublin. As a line in an old Irish song goes- ‘ Won’t Old Mother England be Surprised’.

By 1892 Connolly was an important figure in the Scottish Socialist Federation which, by the way, tended to be more militant and more Celtic and less enamored of parliamentarianism than its English counterpart. Later, the failure to gather in the radical Celtic elements was a contributing factor in the early British Communist Party’s failure to break the working class from the Labor Party. Most of the great labor struggles of the period cam from the leadership in Scotland and Ireland. Connolly became the secretary of the Federation in 1895. In 1896 he left the army and established the Irish Socialist Republican Party. The name itself tells the program. Ireland at that time was essentially a classic English colony so to take the honored name Republican was to spit in the eye of the English. Even today the English have not been able to rise to the political level of a republic. Despite Cromwell’s valiant attempt in the 1600's and no thanks to today's British Labor Party’s policies this is still sadly the case. All militants, of whatever nation, can and must support this call- Abolish the British monarchy, House of Lords and the state Church of England.

In England Connolly was active in the Socialist Labor Party that split from the moribund, above-mentioned Social Democratic Federation in 1903. During the period before the Easter uprising he was heavily involved in the Irish labor movement and acted essentially as the right hand man to James Larkin in the Irish Transport and General Workers Union. In 1913 when Larkin led a huge strike in Dublin but was forced to leave due to English reprisals Connolly took over. It was at that time that Connolly founded the Irish Citizens Army as a defense organization of armed and trained laboring men against the brutality of the dreaded Dublin Metropolitan Police. Although only numbering about 250 men at the time their political goal was to establish an independent and socialist Ireland.

Connolly stood aloof from the leadership of the Irish Volunteers, the nationalist formation based on the middle classes. He considered them too bourgeois and unconcerned with Ireland's economic independence. In 1916 thinking the Volunteers were merely posturing, and unwilling to take decisive action against England, he attempted to goad them into action by threatening to send his Irish Citizens Army against the British Empire alone, if necessary. This alarmed the members of the more militant faction -Irish Republican Brotherhood, who had already infiltrated the Volunteers and had plans for an insurrection as well. In order to talk Connolly out of any such action, the IRB leaders, including Tom Clarke and Patrick Pearse, met with Connolly to see if an agreement could be reached. During the meeting the IRB and the ICA agreed to act together at Easter of that year.

When the Easter Rising occurred on April 24, 1916, Connolly was Commandant of the Dublin Brigade, and as the Dublin brigade had the most substantial role in the rising, he was de facto Commander in Chief. Following the surrender he was executed by the British for his role in the uprising. Although he was so badly injured in the fighting that he was unable to stand for his execution and he was shot sitting in a chair. The Western labor movement, to its detriment, no longer produces enough such militants as Connolly (and Larkin, for that matter). Learn more about this important socialist thinker and fighter. ALL HONOR TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES CONNOLLY.

A word on the Easter Uprising. The easy part of analyzing the Uprising is the knowledge, in retrospect, that it was not widely supported by people in Ireland and militarily defeated by the British forces send in main force to crush it and therefore doomed to failure. Still easier is to criticize the strategy and tactics of the action and of the various actors, particularly in underestimating the British Empire’s frenzy to crush any opposition to its main task of victory in World War I. The hard part is to draw any positive lessons of that national liberation experience for the future. If nothing else remember this though, and unfortunately the Irish national liberation fighters (and other national liberation fighters later, including later Irish revolutionaries) failed to take this into account in their military calculations. The British (or fill in the name of whatever colonial power applies) were entirely committed to defeating the uprising, including burning that colonial country to the ground if need be in order to maintain control. In the final analysis, it was not their metropolitan homeland, so the hell with it. Needless to say, British Labor’s position was almost a carbon copy of His Imperial Majesty’s. Labor leader Arthur Henderson could barely contain himself when informed that James Connolly had been executed. That should, even today, make every British militant blush with shame. Unfortunately, the demand for British militants and all other militants today is the same as back then in 1916- All British Troops Out of Ireland.

In various readings I have come across a theory that the Uprising was the first socialist revolution in Europe, predating the Bolshevik Revolution by over a year. Unfortunately, there is little truth to that idea. Of the Uprising’s leaders, only James Connolly was devoted to the socialist cause. Moreover, while the Irish Volunteers and the Irish Citizen Army were prototypical models for urban- led national liberation forces such organizations, as we have witnessed in later history, are not inherently socialistic. The dominant mood among the leadership was in favor of political independence and/or fighting for a return to a separate traditional Irish cultural hegemony. Let poets rule the land, an old idea. As outlined in the famous Proclamation of the Republic posted on the General Post Office in Dublin, Easter Monday, 1916 the goal of the leadership appeared to be something on the order of a society like those fought for in the European Revolutions of 1848, a left bourgeois republic. Some formation on the order of the Paris Commune of 1871 or the Soviet Commune of 1917 did not figure in the political calculations at that time.

As noted above, James Connolly clearly was skeptical of his erstwhile comrades on the subject of the nature of the future state and apparently was prepared for an ensuing class struggle following the establishment of a republic. That does not mean that revolutionary socialists could not support such an uprising. On the contrary, Lenin, who was an admirer of Connolly for his anti-war stance in World War I, and Trotsky stoutly defended the uprising against those who derided the Easter Rising for involving bourgeois elements. Participation by bourgeois and petty bourgeois elements is in the nature of a national liberation struggle. The key, which must be learned by militants today, is who leads the national liberation struggle and on what program. As both Lenin and Trotsky made clear later in their own revolutionary experiences in Russia revolutionary socialists have to lead other disaffected elements of society to overthrow the existing order. There is no other way in a heterogeneous class-divided society. Moreover, in Ireland, the anti-imperialist nature of the action against British imperialism during wartime merited support. This is based on the old socialist principle that the main enemy is a home. Chocky Ar La.

THIS ARTICLE WAS WRITTEN FROM MEMORY AND THUS SOME OF THE DATES AND ORGANIZATIONAL NAMES MAY BE INCORRECT. THE WRITER WOULD APPRECIATE ANY CORRECTIONS. NEEDLESS TO SAY, NOTWITHSTANDING SUCH ERRORS, THE WRITER STANDS BY HIS POLITICAL CONCLUSIONS.

*And Once Again, Making Joyful Irish Music- The Dubliners

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The Dubliners Performing "The Irish Rover".

And Once Again, Making Joyful Irish Music

The Dubliners Collection, The Dubliners, BMG, 1999

I have mentioned elsewhere that every devotee of the modern Irish folk tradition owes a debt of gratitude for the work of the likes of Tommy Makem and The Clancy Brothers and the group under review here, The Dubliners, for keeping the tradition alive and for making it popular with the young on both sides of the Atlantic. Not only for the songs, but for the various reel and jig instrumentals from the old days that they have produced. Here The Dubliners produce a veritable what’s what of Irish music from the above-mentioned instrumentals to the fighting patriotic songs to the fighting barroom songs to the doggerel. Let’s sort it out a little on this CD.

In this CD The Dubliners do both modern and traditional pieces, some of them I have mentioned in other reviews of the work of The Dubliners. As for the instrumentals the “Queen Of The Fair” medley and “Doherty’s” medley stand out For songs of day to day Ireland in the old days “Donegal Danny”, “The Irish Rover”, “Farewell To Ireland” and “Danny Farrell” stick out (that last one about the plight of the ‘tinkers’ (travelling peoples). For those patriotically inclined “James Larkin” will touch a chord (in his leadership of the famous strike in 1913 and as the predecessor of James Connolly as leader of the Irish labor movement) as will “Johnson’s Motor Car” in a humorous way.

I have always been partial to “Ragland Road” and its theme of missed love and longing. For the culturati there is “The Aul’ Triangle”, the many times-covered Brendan Behan lyrics from his play "The Quare Fellow”. As a tip of the hat to the diaspora here there is a tribute to the much maligned “The Molly McGuires" (19th century Irish militant coalminers in Pennsylvania). As I always mention in discussing The Dubliners, if you are looking for some serious Irish music that goes beyond St. Patty’s Day but can still be appreciated then check out this well-done compilation. And you get Luke Kelly as a bonus. Nice, right?

*Making More Joyful Irish Music- The Dubliners

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The Dubliners Performing "Rocky Road To Dublin".

CD Review

Making More Joyful Irish Music

The Dubliners with Luke Kelly; Special Collection, the Dubliners, Outlet Records, 1997

I have mentioned elsewhere that every devotee of the modern Irish folk tradition owes a debt of gratitude for the work of the likes of Tommy Makem and The Clancy Brothers and the group under review here, The Dubliners, for keeping the tradition alive and for making it popular with the young on both sides of the Atlantic. Not only for the songs, but for the various reel and jig instrumentals from the old days that they have produced. Here The Dubliners produce a veritable what’s what of Irish music from the above-mentioned instrumentals to the fighting patriotic songs to the fighting barroom songs to the doggerel. Let’s sort it out a little on this CD.

In this CD The Dubliners do both modern and traditional pieces. As for the instrumentals “The Battle Of The Somme/Freedom Come Ye All’ combination stands out (as well as paying tribute to those 5000 or so Northern Irishmen who, under British command, fell in the Battle of The Somme in World War I in1916- in one day. Damn that war). For songs of Ireland “Donegal Danny”, “The Irish Rover” and “Danny Farrell” stick out (that latter one about the plight of the ‘tinkers’ (travelling peoples). For those patriotically inclined “James Larkin” will touch a chord (in his leadership of the famous strike in 1913 and as the predecessor of James Connolly as leader of the Irish labor movement)as will the searing " What Died The Sons Of Roisin" oration. Listen carefully to that one, please. I have always been partial to “Now I’m Easy” and its theme of the Irish Diaspora-Australian section. For the culturati there is “The Aul’ Triangle”, the many times-covered Brendan Behan lyrics from his play "The Quare Fellow”. Hell, there is even one in Spanish (we will not get into that issue here) “Ojos Negros”. As I always mention in discussing The Dubliners, if you are looking for some serious Irish music that goes beyond St. Patty’s Day but can still be appreciated then check out this well-done compilation. And you get Luke Kelly as a bonus. Nice, right?

* *Those Who Fought For Our Communist Future Are Kindred Spirits- Honor Wolfe Tone And The Men Of '98 On The Anniversary Of Easter 1916

Click on the title to link to a "Wikipedia" entry for United Irishmen leader, Wolfe Tone on the anniversary of Easter, 1916.


Every January, as readers of this blog are now, hopefully, familiar with the international communist movement honors the 3 Ls-Lenin, Luxemburg and Liebknecht, fallen leaders of the early 20th century communist movement who died in this month (and whose untimely deaths left a huge, irreplaceable gap in the international leadership of that time). January is thus a time for us to reflect on the roots of our movement and those who brought us along this far. In order to give a fuller measure of honor to our fallen forbears this January, and in future Januarys, this space will honor others who have contributed in some way to the struggle for our communist future. That future classless society, however, will be the true memorial to their sacrifices.

Note on inclusion: As in other series on this site (“Labor’s Untold Story”, “Leaders Of The Bolshevik Revolution”, etc.) this year’s honorees do not exhaust the list of every possible communist worthy of the name. Nor, in fact, is the list limited to Bolshevik-style communists. There will be names included from other traditions (like anarchism, social democracy, the Diggers, Levellers, Jacobins, etc.) whose efforts contributed to the international struggle. Also, as was true of previous series this year’s efforts are no more than an introduction to these heroes of the class struggle. Future years will see more detailed information on each entry, particularly about many of the lesser known figures. Better yet, the reader can pick up the ball and run with it if he or she has more knowledge about the particular exploits of some communist militant, or to include a missing one.

September 1913-William Butler Yeats

What need you, being come to sense,
But fumble in a greasy till
And add the halfpence to the pence
And prayer to shivering prayer, until
You have dried the marrow from the bone;
For men were born to pray and save;
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.

Yet they were of a different kind,
The names that stilled your childish play,
They have gone about the world like wind,
But little time had they to pray
For whom the hangman's rope was spun,
And what, God help us, could they save?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.

Was it for this the wild geese spread
The grey wing upon every tide;
For this that all that blood was shed,
For this Edward Fitzgerald died,
And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone,
All that delirium of the brave?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.